Heavy Machinery Warning

Since the Big Truck is at the doctor, J has the Juice. Which means I have no ride.

Since my lunch date (who I will not name, but who is DEAD TO ME and whom I've TOTALLY BROKEN UP WITH) ditched me, I was forced to scrounge for lunch. Those of you who have been to my house can attest to the fact that I do not believe in grocery shopping more than 2 or three days in advance. This is good, because at least you know the food that's in there is fresh (and by food, I mean BEER and ICE CREAM). This is bad because when you're hungry? You're screwed. Unless you want to eat pickles and butter with marachino cherries and a duab of whipped cream.

Therefore, I almost never bring my lunch. This morning, though, I was starving so I grabbed a Lunchables from the fridge on my way to catch my ride from the Gestating Mrs. Smooth.

Since she's knocked up, she's pretty much always starving. Which is awesome. So we swung through one of the local dive taco shops and hooked it up with some big fat burritos.

Good thing to, since as I mentioned two paragraphs ago, SOMEONE WHO IS DEAD TO ME AND READS THIS BLOG FROM HIS GRAVE opted to have lunch with his mom instead and I was forced to eat my Lunchables for lunch.

Because I'm five.

Actually, I kid. I like Lunchables. Add some"meat" and the "cheese" smack it on a little cracker and squeeze on some mustard. Yum. I love mustard. I put it on everything.

But the thing about the mustard in the Lunchables? It's dangerous. And explosive. And should not be operated by people under the influnence of medication.


Or um. Me.

In addition to the mustard all over the "lunch"? All over my arm. My boobs. My desk.

You know what?

Ate it anyway.